


10:00

by yotsu8a



Series: extensions [2]
Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, Misunderstandings, Morning After, idk it's just ooi being gay, shower thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 11:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15532887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yotsu8a/pseuds/yotsu8a
Summary: He didn’t think he’d ever been enamored with someone’s inner workings before — or enamored with someone, period, come to think of it. Was that what it was? Enamorment? Ooi was still figuring it out — no, actually, he hadn’t really been thinking about it at all. It didn’t matter what he called his feelings; they could be anywhere from disinterest to obsession and it didn’t matter so long as they were there.





	10:00

**Author's Note:**

> contains some sexual references, but nothing graphic. if it seems like topics switch very quickly, that's because ooi isn't willing to think abt his own feelings for very long.

The bed was cold when Ooi woke up.

Actually, it was no different from his normal weekend mornings, except that today there was the imprint of a body on the mattress next to him. Rather, where a body _had been_. It was the contrast that made the room temperature frigidness so chilling in the first place; he had been tangled up in blankets and limbs when he had drifted off, and now he was alone, blinking into consciousness in the dark morning (he assumed it was the morning) of his bedroom. His _own_ bedroom, certainly — he didn’t typically pursue relationships with married individuals, and even if this exception was only so because his partner’s marriage was really a cover-up on both fronts, that didn’t mean they’d reached the level where he could go marching into the Kidas’ house like it was his own. Not that _he_ was the one who was apprehensive about it. Kida — _Masahiko_ , rather — seemed apprehensive about most things these days.

Speaking of last night’s love affair — it had been Ooi’s earnest expectation that Masahiko would stick around the next morning, but he was faced more with bafflement than with disappointment (well, there _was_ disappointment, too, but he wasn’t about to acknowledge that, inwardly _or_ outwardly). He would have liked for him to stay. Masahiko’s thoughts had always been meticulous, weighed out, cutting — desperate and panicked for a while (and maybe they still were), but Ooi had still felt the same warm satisfaction (love, he thought, was similar to satisfaction, wasn’t it) whenever he voiced them. He could tell that Masahiko preferred to be the one listening when they were together, and Ooi was happy to oblige, but he encouraged a bit of role reversal. Ooi liked meticulous, weighed out, cutting, no matter how desperate and panicked, and Masahiko had a nice voice, really.

He didn’t think he’d ever been enamored with someone’s inner workings before — or enamored with someone, period, come to think of it. Was that what it was? Enamorment? Ooi was still figuring it out — no, actually, he hadn’t really been thinking about it at all. It didn’t matter what he called his feelings; they could be anywhere from disinterest to obsession and it didn’t matter so long as they were there.

He pushed himself up with his elbow, cracking his neck from side to side (he could practically _see_ Masahiko wincing) and glancing down at the mess of sheets where his partner had been the night before. There was still an indentation in the pillow from where his head had been, and Ooi thought he could feel the heat seeping into his fingers from the mattress. Maybe he was imagining it, but he decided otherwise; Masahiko must not have left long ago. His eyes, still blinking away sleep, shifted to the radio seated on his nightstand. Ten in the morning; he smiled to himself amusedly. An early riser, then. Figured. His mouth was dry.

His feet made heavy contact with the floor and he linked his fingers together above his head, stretching and feeling his body shift back into place. No cricks, no soreness — somehow, he doubted Masahiko could say the same of the latter, and it was easier to smile about it in private (he didn’t mind smiling around Masahiko, but he could at least spare him the embarrassment of this one). He would hit up the gym later, but there was no rush; he pulled open the curtains, eyes adjusting to the morning light, and exhaled slowly.

His sheets were almost definitely dirty now, come to think of it. He’d have to get them in the washing machine before he left — hell, he might as well shower now, too. No one ever said he couldn’t take more than one bath a day, and if even if they had, he would’ve ignored them. 

The water hit his back in a sudden, cold sheet, but Ooi didn’t flinch. It pelted off his skin and swirled around his feet, and he grabbed the soap and briefly closed his eyes. He wondered what Masahiko was doing now. He had never struck Ooi as the type to leave before his partner woke up, and he certainly had never struck Ooi as the type to have any interest in one-night stands. Commitment was Masahiko’s forte, after all, so was it so unreasonable for him to expect anything other than commitment on this occasion? Hell, he would have at least thought the man would shake him awake, offer some sort of explanation before he skipped out.

But no, Masahiko was polite, wasn’t he? Polite and utterly devoted to Ooi’s opinion, and a busy man to boot, by his own devices if no one else’s. Of course a man like him would have a schedule set for himself, even on Saturdays; it all made sense now. He had woken up, realized that he had things to do, and left quietly to avoid disturbing Ooi’s own sleep.

Something still didn’t feel quite right about it, and Ooi convinced himself that he definitely wasn’t just upset that his sort-of-probably-boyfriend-by-now-but-they-hadn’t-really-labelled-it-yet had left him to wake up alone. It would be hypocritical, after all, because Ooi had done that to plenty of people before, and Ooi knew what he was and hypocrite definitely wasn’t one of those things, no matter _how_ accusingly Shimura looked at him in the hallway (that part had nothing to do with sexual affairs, but trust was involved, at least, not that Ooi would know because he _hadn’t_ done anything wrong with that relationship or with any of his _other_ coworkers either, he had never contradicted his own values).

He shifted a hand up to rub soap over his shoulders. There were suds forming around his ears.

No matter the reason, Ooi certainly would have preferred it if Masahiko had stayed for the morning. He wanted to see how sunlight gathered on his body, furrowed under the sheets and looking at least a little more peaceful in the dreaming world than he did in the waking one; he wanted to watch him climb out of the bed, adjusting to this newly recycled state of being; he wanted to stand with him in the shower, bodies close together at the start of the day just as they had been at the end of the previous one, like a perfect circle or an end to a book. It dawned on Ooi, suddenly, that that avenue of thought more likely than not wasn’t far from the kind of thing that passed through Masahiko’s head, but if he hesitated it was because that idea _amused_ him, not because he was _embarrassed_ to be so obviously influenced by the other man’s way of thinking. Wasn’t _he_ supposed to be the one doing the influencing? Was he even being influenced in the first place, or had he always thought this way? It didn’t matter much where he ended and Masahiko began, did it? If he was becoming romantic, then so be it — but _that_ trait was probably new to the both of them.

A mutual learning experience, then. Too bad Masahiko wasn’t around to discuss it with. (Ooi swore that the observation of his absence was nothing more than casual.) The water was switched off, the shower curtains were pulled aside, and Ooi could see the steam in the air.

He was returning from the conjoined bathroom when his bedroom door creaked open.

“What?” Ooi asked. “Have you seen my glasses?” Kida asked.

They made eye contact, and for a second everything was very quiet (Ooi could hear the birds singing outside, wondered if Kida could identify them), and then Kida had gone very red.

“Oh. _Oh_. I — I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you — rather, I thought you might be getting up by now, but I didn’t know — I thought I’d try to make breakfast before you got up, but — really I’m sorry I swear if I had known you were showering I — I should have at least knocked, I was just — I was sure I wore them in last night — I’m sorry this is such an invasion of privacy I can leave if you want — they’re not in here, are they — ”

Ooi, who had been taking this opportunity to dress himself, finally saw it fit to intervene. “Kida, you’re wearing glasses right now.”

Kida slammed to a halt, face still very brightly colored and just a little bit sweaty, and stared at Ooi for a good few seconds before smiling awkwardly. “Oh, this is my backup pair.”

“… Yes. Of course.” _How could I forget._ Ooi pulled the shirt down over his head (gray, short sleeved, maybe just a little tight) and made his way across the room. “You left them in the car.”

“Oh!” Kida’s eyes widened the slightest bit. “That’s right! I’ll go get them — ”

Ooi rested his hand on Kida’s shoulder (he could practically cup the width of it in his hand) and the other man froze in his tracks. He could feel goosebumps rising under the thin fabric of Kida’s shirt and staved off the grin tempting to surface, pulled him a step closer, pressed his lips to Kida’s forehead (and he was mumbling Ooi’s name, surprised and flustered at the sudden gesture), and maybe it _was_ an uncharacteristic show of affection but Ooi was too fond to care. Of course _that_ was where Kida had been — how just like him that was, how _familiar_ , how almost flattering. He could smell it now from his place in the doorway, and it was odd, almost silly, because he didn’t think anyone had thought to treat him like this in a very long time — but it was welcome. This was welcome.

He exhaled slowly. “What did you say about breakfast?”

**Author's Note:**

> ooida for best ship tbh. pow pow by lcd soundsystem and show you how by the killers were writing music for this fic!
> 
> http://sugurushimura.tumblr.com/


End file.
